


pendulums

by dangeropolis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fair Amount of Cursing, M/M, boombox, wingwoman tracer, zenyatta being smug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 04:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8148478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangeropolis/pseuds/dangeropolis
Summary: five times junkrat made lucio's life a complete disaster, and the one time lucio made junkrat's a damn near miracle





	

**Author's Note:**

> because boombox is the best ship name i've ever heard, ever, maybe only above pharmercy
> 
> god i love this fandom

 

  1. **touching**



                It took a few days after the two Junkers had arrived at the watchpoint that Lúcio even caught a glimpse of them, and that was only for a few seconds in the mess hall. A shock of blond hair, tinged with something black and gross looking, maybe ash, and a staggering slab of intimidation following shortly behind. It took a few more days after that for Lúcio to even remember their names. Garbagemouse. Trashrodent?

                “Have you seen the new guys?” Hana asked in a hushed tone later, even though they were the only ones in her dorm. “Junkrat and Roadhog?”

                Right. Those were the names. The weirdest codenames on the planet. “Nah, only for like, a second in the cafeteria. Why?”

                Hana giggled. “They’re so funny! Roadhog just stands there looking all tough, and Junkrat sounds exactly like I thought Australians talked!” She puffed up her chest. “He says things like ‘Oi, matey!’ and ‘Gimme a tick, there!’”

                “That’s the worst Australian accent I’ve ever heard,” Lúcio said, which earned him a smack in the shoulder.

 

                Winston had been droning around for what seemed like forever. It wasn’t even a real meeting; it was just supposed to be a general forum for addressing minor stuff going on at the base. Half of the team hadn’t even shown up, even Hana deemed it “too lame”, leaving Lúcio awkwardly by himself in the corner, doodling on one of the tables. He guessed he could have sat next to Lena or even Dr. Ziegler, but they both seemed like the type to pay rapt attention and didn't want to seem rude adjacent to them.

                “No, we cannot get faster data connections. We’re in the middle of a  _cliff,”_  Winston sniffed, adjusting his glasses. “Anyone else have any complaints?” Lena raised her hand. “Other than ‘more alcohol.’ Yes, erm, Junkrat?”

                Lúcio’s head snapped up, seeing a few rows behind him the new guy had his hand lazily in the air, tinged hair seemingly defying gravity, and holy crap, was he  _shirtless?_ It was freezing in this small meeting room. “Yeah, I ‘ave a problem with that little man over there.” Junkrat pointed over at a very huffy Tobjorn. “He keeps moving my shite! Rude starker.”

                “He keeps leaving his bombs everywhere!”

                “Oi!” Junkrat started to sit up, but a gentle hand from his large friend stopped him. Roadpig? No, Roadhog. “Those aren’t just bombs! They are  _delicate handcrafted masterpieces_ to you.”

                “Oh please,” Tobjorn drew up to his full four foot nothing height. “My turrets show true craftsmanship! You should be dropping to your knee in awe of my superior handiwork!”

                Junkrat spat. “Superior handiwork my arse.”

                “Ooh, finally these things are gettin' good,” McCree said, rubbing his hands together as Fareeha snickered next to him.

                “No, we are not having a brawl in the middle of such important work,” Winston said, putting a hand on Tobjorns shoulder before the smaller man lunged. “Meeting adjorned.”

                Lúcio sighed with relief, not wanting to shadow Angela while she patched up after a huge fight, again, and began to strap on his skates to make a quick exit. Maybe he could spare some time to do a livestream with his fans, or train with Satya, or even-

                “Oi, green man,” a voice cut through Lúcio’s thoughts.

                Looking up, Lúcio saw Junkrat standing there, staring at him with wonder.

                “The name’s Lúcio,” he said, trying to sound a less annoyed at the rude greeting than he really was. Lúcio, at heart, was a good guy with a polite demeanor, even if other people didn’t get the gist. “Pleased to meet you.” Looking behind Junkrat, he saw Roadhog as well, waiting patiently. “You too,” he said with a head nod towards the towering terror, and received a nod in return.

                 “Can I, can I touch yer hair?” Junkrat said, reaching out with grimy fingers. “It’s so cool lookin’.”

                 “What?” Lúcio smacked his hand away, drawing up to his full height. Granted, his full height was a full foot shorter than Junkrat, but at least the skates added an inch or two. “No, you can’t go around touching people’s hair! Not cool.”

                Junkrat shrugged, looking innocent. “Just thought I’d ask. Sorry, mate.”

                Lúcio rolled his eyes and watched Junkrat stalk off with his friend.

                “White people,” he muttered.

 

  1. **nicknames**



                 Lúcio didn’t mind being the second shortest hero in Overwatch, taller only than Tobjorn. It made him an ace on the battlefield, being able to weave in and out between allies and enemies, ducking underneath the terrifying tanks to slide right where he needed to be.

                “Where the fuck did he come from?” low level Talon ages would cry out right before he blew them right off a street and into the traffic below.

                “Lúcio, you saved me out of nowhere you bloody miracle!” Lena would gasp out just as Lúcio ducked under a low bridge to catch the time-traveler midair and out of accelerator juice. “You’re my main chap from now on.”

                Lúcio usually just chuckled and blushed. He liked the praise, but he was just happy to help.  However, there was one thing, that if somebody were to really push him on, he might admit bugs him a little bit. Maybe.

                “How are you always this chill?” Hana asked over dinner after a particularly aggravating game of cat and mouse with some rookie terrorist threats. “You should go hang out with that robot monk guy.”

                Mei joined them with her own meal, Zarya not far behind. “Yeah, you are chill. And I know  _chill,”_  she said with a grand wink to many groans from everyone else.

                “Hey, Zenyatta’s my man,” Lúcio said. “And sometimes you just gotta go with the rhythm.”

                Hana rolled her eyes. “What. Ever.” She frowned at her bland eggs and rice. “Can you get me some hot sauce? This stuff is too plain.”

                “Yeah,” Lúcio said, getting up. “I was gonna get some anyway.” He made his way back into the kitchen, dodging loud heroes moving around from table to table and engaging in hearty strategy talk. The kitchen was nearly empty by now, if a little cramped. Trying to appeal to everyone’s tastes made for very stuffed cabinets filled with different spices and herbs from all around the world. Lúcio tended to lean towards the really spicy stuff, but one time Satya casually gave him something she said was ‘mild enough for a small toddler’ that had him running away with tears streaming down his face.

                “Chili flakes, chili pepper, pepper flakes…” Lúcio pawed through the options, humming a new beat to himself. “Oh, shit, there it is.” Just what he was looking for, Ghost Flakes. A box of it was on the highest shelf.

                Way above his reach.

                A few very pathetic jumps later, and even a standing on some loose boxes failed to give him the height he needed. 

                “Oi, watch yer head,” a voice called, and suddenly a very lofty Junkrat appeared above him, grabbing a packet of tea right next to flakes.

                Lúcio stared after him, debating whether or not to swallow his pride and ask for help or to start stacking chairs.

                Hey, what did it matter anyway? Lúcio was  _chill_. It didn’t matter if he needed help. “Hey, Junkrat, my man,” he called after the arsonist, who was already getting ready to boil water.

                Junkrat spun around dramatically, splaying his arms out almost vaudeville style. “Mate! What on this brown Earth can I do for you?”

                Lúcio was already regretting this. “Can you get those peppers for me up there?” He pointed at the box, hilariously far from their reach.

                Junkrat broke out into a shit eating grin, as if his grin didn’t already scream ‘I eat shit for breakfast, thanks for asking!’ “Sure thing, shortstop.” With almost laughable ease he brought down the offending item, shooing him off. “Feel free to ask me for anything else ya need, smallstuff.”

                “It’s Lúcio,” the audio-medic grumbled, before reminding himself how calm he always is and walking off.

                “Right, right, Lushes. Tell me how the weather is down there sometime!”

                And that wasn’t even the end of it. From there on, the short jokes kept coming.

                On the battlefield: “Oi, bitesize, I could use a bit of healing o’er here!”

                In the medbay: “No no no, I want junior to assist me, he’s always gettin’ the short end o’ things!”

                Even in meetings: “Maybe the medic’s feeling a little oppressed. You know he is always getting…overlooked!”

                Sometimes the team chided Junkrat, but for the most part Lúcio could always find someone giggling at his expense.

                After it had been almost two weeks with the constant teasing, the medic had had enough, and confronted him in the mechanic’s workshop.

                Amongst stockpiles of different cherry bombs and detonators, amongst different schematics and posters with scribbles of plans, sat a surprisingly quiet Junkrat, picking away at a plan for something that emitted a poisonous gas when set off. For a moment, Lúcio just stood there and stared, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to see him like this. A private, quiet moment that he supposed everyone had, but it just wasn’t possible to imagine this detonator of a human being sticking out his tongue as he picked at wires with tiny glasses on and scars on his fingertips, jiggling his good leg like crazy.

                “Can I help ya pipsqueak?”

                Alright, moment gone. Lúcio’s feathers went back to being ruffled. “Hey, man, don’t mean to be a bother or anything but.” He ran his finger over the back of his neck, feeling the thick braids there. “The nicknames have gotta stop. They were funny at first, and it’s not like I’m not one to take a joke. I’m cool with most stuff. In fact, I’m the professor of cool. PhD and everything.” Holy shit why was he still talking.

                Junkrat turned around, pushing the glasses (wow, glasses, those looked nice) up to the top of his head. “No problem mate. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Your heights nothin’ to be ashamed about.”

                “Right, yes, thank you, that’s what-“

                “In fact, it’s a bit endearing, don’tcha think? In a cute way.”

                Lúcio blinked. “Wait, what?”

                Junkrat had already spun around, tinkering again. “Right then, so if you don’t wanna get that head a yours blown into smithereens in the next twenty seconds, I’d suggest you get moving along.”

                “Um, okay, gotcha,” Lúcio said, skating away and feeling a tightness in his stomach.

                What a dick.

  1. **attire**



                 “What I don’t understand is why he’s shirtless all the time. Doesn’t he get cold?” Lúcio huffed, languidly sitting around the target practice, messing around with different settings on his stereo as Lena darted from target to target.

                “Love, honestly,” Lena started a little impatiently, blinking forward to aim at a training bot, blasting it to pieces before reloading smoothly. “What I don’t understand is why you’re so obsessed with him.”

                “I’m not obsessed with him,” he said, staring off at the other side of the training field where Junkrat was talking with Satya. From what he could gather from occasionally glancing over there (read: basically full on ogling) was that they were both trying to figure out how Junkrat could use a concussion bomb to knock an enemy into a trap of Satya’s turrets, with Reinhardt as the test subject.

                “Uh-huh, sure hun.” Lena pulled up her goggles, pixie cut fluffing up in every direction. “That’s why you keep staring.” 

                Lúcio sputtered. “Only because I’m trying to figure out how he doesn’t get hypothermia or some shit! I’m gonna have to haul his frozen ass back to the medbay someday, I just know it.”

                Lena let out a light chuckle, slapping her knees. “Aw, for a bloke who’s built up a bit of a reputation for being easygoing, that boy does work you right up.”

                “One time I saw him pick his nose and then wipe it on his shorts,” Lúcio bemoaned, handing Lena a water bottle. “That’s just unhygienic right there.”

                “Why don’t you tell him that?” Lena asked, taking a sip of her water. “Y’know, just as a concerned doctor-in-training.”

                Lúcio sat up. “Yeah. Yeah! I’m just doing my duty as a bro who’s worried,” he said, getting up and brushing off his pants. “Like, hey man, I wanna be real with you: you nasty.”

                “Perfect, love. Say exactly that,” Lena said, but when she looked up Lúcio was already walking towards them, leaving his booming stereo behind. “Oh, no, this is gonna be a disaster,” she muttered, following him. “I better watch.”

                “No, I think the weight is too much,” Satya was saying, staring at their plans.

                “Hey, I’m standin’ right here!” Reinhardt protested.

                Satya furrowed her brows. “Yes? Your point?”

                “Well, what If you put mine right there,” Junkrat said, pointing. “And to distract ‘em into the mine in the first place, you set up a turret behind it too.”

                “Wouldn’t that be distracting to get to the distraction?” Satya asked.      

                “Ugh, my brain hurts,” Junkrat grumbled, stretching his back a little so he reached full height. That’s where Lúcio stopped, right in front of him as he was accidentally flexing. Junkrat glanced down, cracking a smile at Lúcio. “Oi, do you have an opinion on this shit? We’ve been racking our brain on it all mornin’.” He collapsed back on one of his tires, stretching his arms behind him.

                Lena, unable to help herself, circled the situation. “What if we brought one of my pulse bombs into this somehow?”

                Satya hummed. “Could work.” She paused. “We would have to scrap what we already have though.” Junkrat groaned again.

                Lúcio waved his hands, shaking his head. “Nah, nah. That’s not why I came over here.” He suddenly realized that he had an audience, as both Satya and Reinhardt were staring at him expectantly. Not to mention Junkrat, who was waiting with uncharacteristic patience.  “I just…Just was wondering…”

                Lena rolled her eyes. “He wants to know why this dirty bastard over here never wears a bloody shirt!”

                Junkrat smirked, as he always seemed to be doing at Lúcio. “Why, you been starin’?”

                Reinhardt let out a bellowing laugh, slapping Junkrat on the shoulder. “I think this is my cue to leave. I am sure I am needed elsewhere.” He staggered off, his footsteps echoing throughout the training room.

                Lúcio scoffed. “I wasn’t staring, I was  _concerned._ You could freeze, or something. And it makes your body exposed to like, nasty shit out there.”

                “Roadhog does not wear a shirt, yet I have never seen you chide him for it,” Satya pointed out.

                “Yeah, Lúcio, don’t be such a nag!” Lena teased, earning a sharp death glare from Lúcio. “Oh, I’m just takin’ a piss outta you! C’mon Satya, let’s let these boys play their silly games, we can go get some food. I’m starved!”

                “But, the strategizing!” Satya protested as she was pulled along by a persistent Lena.      

                “We’ll talk about the pulse bombs over lunch! Think of all the blueprints we can draw up!”  The two women walked away, with Lena chattering on excitedly, the excellent wingwoman she was.

                Junkrat was still smirking at him when Lúcio’s gaze fell back on him. He hadn’t gotten off of the tire, was just leaning back and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Man, those buggers bolted pretty damn fast.”

                Lúcio shifted his weight to seem cool and casual. “Guess they didn’t want to see me channel my inner Dr. Ziegler and lecture you,” he said with a small, awkward laugh.

                “Would be a pretty hypocritical lecture, don’cha think?” Junkrat asked, scratching some soot off of his nose.

                “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                “Well, you’re running around with that tank top of yours, showing off those arms.”

                Lúcio sputtered out a sound of protest. “That’s way different!”

                “Is it?” Junkrat cracked a mad smile, teeth glinting. “Oh, poor little medic! Make sure to wear a jacket, it gets cold out there!” he said in a mocking tone. “If you’re worried that you’re doing more of the staring than me, I don’t think you got anything to fret about there, mate.”

                “Whatever man, screw you, I’m just concerned, that’s all.”

                Junkrat ran a hand through his hair, his easy mood cracking. “Boy, I have no idea what I’m doin’ wrong here. I just keep fucking it all up left and right.” He leaned forward on his tire, splaying his hands out. “How about this, I got a proposition. Tell me what to say, really. I can be a reasonable bloke, I swear it.”

                “Dude, what the hell are you talking about,” Lúcio asked, the tension in his shoulders relaxing a little bit. “I just don’t know why you keep poking at me, that’s all.”

                “That’s just how I let a bloke know that I like him, that’s all!” Junkrat stood up, throwing his hands into the air.  Y’know, teasing on the playground? Pulling pigtails? That’s me flirting!”

                “F-flirting?” Lúcio repeated, dumbstruck. Oh. “You’re flirting with me?”

                Junkrat groaned. “All right, that’s it. I’m starting over. I’m gonna nice to you from now on, cross my heart and all.” He gave Lúcio a pat on the shoulder. “Sorry mate, really am. ‘m not so good at the whole ‘communication’ thing,” he said, air quoting perfectly. “I’ll make it up to you, promise. I’ll ask someone about it, maybe that mech girl.”

                If Lúcio wasn’t currently stunned with pure shock, he would’ve said,  _no, please, god no, do not ask Hana,_ but he was still racing with thoughts that someone was trying to flirt with him. Someone who didn’t wear a shirt and painted his nails black and annoyed the living hell out of him.

                Why is this his life?

                Junkrat tilted his head at Lúcio’s unresponsiveness. “Well, be seein’ you then, mate. Cheers.”

 

               

 

  1. **winks**



_Today is gonna be great_ , is what Lúcio thought with a certain stubbornness.

                  He was heading down to the medbay to shadow Dr. Ziegler for some routine matinence on Zenyatta. It was actually pretty exciting, working on omnics was really interesting, since he was constantly fiddling with his music, configuring the rhythm for both human and omnic variety. It was getting better day by day, but Lúcio always noticed with a twinge of defeat that his omnic teammates just weren’t healing as well.

                “You look lost in thought,” a light voice said. Dr. Ziegler appeared next to him, looking angelic even so early in the morning. “I hope you are focused for today’s work! I’ve been eager to teach you many things.”

                “Yeah, of course,” Lúcio said, turning to smile at her. “You’re a great teacher.”

                Dr. Ziegler beamed,”And you, a fantastic pupil. I’ve never seen anyone so willing to listen to me, since people tend to think I’m lecturing them.” She furrowed her brows. "Can't even imagine why, however."

                “Nah, those people can shove off.”

                They were starting to enter the courtyard, which was bustling with Overwatch heroes chatting in groups, enjoying a rare downtime in the compound. No faraway covert missions were on the agenda for at least another week, so that meant everyone was going a little stir crazy too. McCree was constantly shining his gun, staring at it, then shining again. Zarya had taken up doing body curls in various locations around the watchpoint, even once off Reinhardt’s arm as he shouted encouragements.

                In the corner of the courtyard, he spotted Junkrat having an animated and rather one sided conversation with Roadhog, the latter reading from a thick novel. They both were sitting and drinking a cups of tea, although Junkrat’s had already spilled. Lúcio stared a little, watching as Junkrat through his head back in uproarious laughter, tilting back his chair.

                When Junkrat met his gaze, he grinned.

                “Oi, Lúcio!” he called with a wave, and Lúcio’s heart gave a distinct and strained thump at finally hearing Junkrat call him by his actual name. “Perfect weather we’re having!” And he winked at Lúcio.  _Winked_.

                That was definitely a Hana Song Flirt Lesson 101. 

                Blushing, Lúcio bowed away, jogging a little quicker down the stairs. Dr. Ziegler hopped along to keep up.

                “Something the matter, Lúcio?” she asked, sensing the tension radiating off of him.

                “Just, that guy.” Lúcio jerked his head in the direction of where Junkrat was. “Don’t you think he’s a little obnoxious?”

                Dr. Ziegler pursed her lips in thought, considering. “I find that he’s mostly harmless. Why, is everything okay?”

                “Yeah, I’m fine,” Lúcio said, letting the door to the office open.

                Zenyatta was already in the medbay when they arrived, waiting patiently.

                “Greetings,” he said warmly as the two support healers arrived.

                “Good morning,” Angela chirped, guiding him onto an exam table as Lúcio brought up his file on the computer. “We are just doing general maintenance today, so if you can turn off some of your internal heating systems.”

                “Not a problem,” Zenyatta replied, relaxing onto the bed and slowly exhaling. Lúcio plugged in his communicator, pulling up some of his personal playlists.

                “Hey, do you mind if I experiment with some of my beats while we’re doing this, Zenyatta?” Lúcio asked.

                “Do whatever you feel is right.”

                Pressing play on of the more experimental songs he’s been working on, Lúcio donned some gloves and slid next to Angela.

                Dr. Ziegler began her work, testing certain hard drives for functionality and running tests on certain programs. Zenyatta was perfectly still, in a meditative state to smooth out the process. Occasionally, Angela would point out a special technique or note some of the vitals, but for the most part everyone was quiet and focused, with Lúcio’s mixes playing in the background. He was starting to practice with some smoother, more bass inclined songs, low and steady.

                Still, even with the examination going on, Lúcio’s mind kept racing about that wink from Junkrat, and the way he said his name. And he wasn’t even sure if the feeling in his stomach was glee or dread. Maybe both.

                Eventually, Dr. Ziegler wiped her forehead and stepped back. “Okay, we are done for the most part. I’m simply going to reboot your system entirely for the changes to take effect. Zenyatta, you will be conscious but most of your other functions will be offline. Will you be okay?”

                “Yes, I am sure.”

                Dr. Ziegler nodded. “It will take about thirty minutes. I have some paperwork to go over with Winston, Lúcio, are you fine to stay here and monitor him while I’m gone?”

                “No problem, fam.” He waved her off as the medic went off, busy as always. Lúcio pulled up a chair to the table, messing with beats on his phone.

                “You seem troubled today,” Zenyatta commented from the exam table, all of his limbs completely limp at his sides. “Would you like to discuss something with me?”

                Lúcio felt a gulp of panic, but hid it with a smile. “Hey, I’m supposed to be the one fixing you.” 

                “Mutual understanding of one’s fellow companions makes the world a more empathetic place.” The omnic’s head settled against his pillow. “Besides, it’s not like there is much else to do.”

                Lúcio looked away, messing around with some of his tempos while keeping an eye on Zenyatta’s vitals. “I just. I never let anything small get to me. The only thing I really get worked up over is like, all this injustice and shit going on. I wanna protect my people.”

                Zenyatta hummed. “You have a hero’s heart.”

                Lúcio laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know about that.” He sighed. “There’s something that’s been annoying me. It’s just, getting into my head, like some worm that digs its way in and it like ‘Ahhhh!! Feed me!!’ so I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like I’m letting everyone down, since I’m the cool guy but I’m definitely not being chill about this.” Lúcio rubbed at his eyes, feeling exhausted from keeping it in for so long. Even though he’s always willing to listen and care, he’s not one to share his feelings himself. “It just sucks that this one thing is making me so crazy.”

                Zenyatta was listening patiently, lying perfecting still as his inner mechanics droned within. “So what if it is?”

                “What?”

                “This annoyance.” His hand twitched slightly, making a waving gesture. “Is it harmful to you physically?”

                Lúcio looked away. “No.”

                “Many believe that balance is coming into harmony with yourself. This can be true.But it is also about adaption. We truly fail when we are comfortable.”

                “What’s wrong with being comfortable?”

                “On the surface, nothing.” Zenyatta adjusted himself slightly, still with limited functions. “Think of your life as a pendulum. It swings back and forth between good times, and bad times. Bad times are inevitable, and hardships will always be present, as you are quite aware of. If you become complacent in these bad times, you will never overcome them.”

                Lúcio blinked, leaning back in his chair. “Dude, I’m feelin’ on your vibes and everything, but I have no idea what this has to do with this guy.”

                Zenyatta’s nine holes flash with light, almost a smile. “Oh, so it’s about a boy, is it?”

                Red tinged Lúcio’s face quickly, and he waved it away. “What? No! Anyway, what about the pendulum thing?”

                “Ah. Yes. The pendulum,” Zenyatta amended, amusement still thick in his voice. “Well, in good times, when you are at peace with yourself, you don’t challenge anything. You never grow. So something that is considered an annoyance, like a change in your life, or a new person…” Lúcio didn’t know that omnics could smirk, but hell if this one wasn’t smirking now. “It is a good thing. You learn, you change, you adapt. You swing the pendulum to your advantage.”

                Lúcio stayed quiet, his mind clicking different things together. “Wow.” He paused. “Wow. This is some heavy shit.” The song on the computer skipped, before playing into the next one, something light and almost dreamy. It was some of his most experimental stuff, less bass and more light piano remixed to have a hip-hop beat. The song kept playing, letting a warm feeling fade into the room as it burst with emotion.

                “Heavy shit indeed.” Zenyatta inhaled sharply, his core buzzing into action. “I think this song is what you’ve been searching for.”

                “Huh?” Lúcio spun in the chair, inspecting the omnic’s vitals and processes. Sure enough, the reboot was downloading faster, and all of his functions were working more precisely to repair itself. “Oh shit. Oh shit!” Lúcio threw his hands in the air with a whoop. “This is what I’ve been searching for! I can help you!”

                “Yes, it seems to be working. It has a,” Zenyatta paused poignantly. “balance, to it.”

                Lúcio broke into a wide grin. “Thanks, man.” He raised the omnic’s arm to fistbump it.  “Really, for everything. If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here for you.”

                Zenyatta laughed lightly, pleased. “Thank you. And I wish you luck in your endeavors with this boy.”

                “You stay hush about that, you hear?”

                “A true monk never gossips.”

                “You’re so full of it.”

 

 

                Later that evening, Lúcio went about wandering the halls, looking for one of his friends. He had found a movie on TV that he always wanted to watch, about inner-city kids working with omnics and learning a heartwarming lesson about friendship. Even they were really dumb and contrived, sometimes Lúcio liked watching that kind of stuff, especially with all the stress that was in his life lately.

                He was searching for Hana in her dorm room, but she was nowhere to be found. Lena, too, was missing from her room, but that wasn’t as weird. Lúcio even paused at Zarya’s room, since she always found Western-oriented movies amusing, but she was gone too.

                Who was there, however, was Junkrat, scraping dirt from his grimy nails in the adjacent lounge room. Of course it was him.

                 _Pendulum. Balance. Endurance._ Lúcio chanted in his head like a mantra as he approached Junkrat, who barely looked up. “Hey, do you know where everyone is?”

                Junkrat dipped his head back, like he was thinking really hard. “Uh, I dunno, I don’t keep track of everyone around here.” He paused, digging in his ear a little bit to Lúcio’s disgust. “I think the girls are doing their own training practice. They kicked me out, too. ‘Girl’s brawl’ they said, all of ‘em giggling like mad. So I think the blokes are retaliating by trying to prank them. Dicks out, or something.”

                “Why aren’t you with them? Don’t you love pranking people?”

                Junkrat shrugged, bored. “Sure, but they’re all amateurs. I’m not gettin’ into a lil’ kitten play here. I’m in the big leagues.”

                “Oh,” Lúcio said, awkwardly. “Well.” Wow, he can’t believe he was really going to say this. Zenyatta would be so proud. He just felt stupid. “Do you wanna, I dunno, watch a movie with me?”

                Junkrat looked up, taking an agonizingly long time to reply as Lúcio just squirmed. After what seemed like ages, but was probably only five seconds, he finally said, “Yeah, sure, alright.”

                “Really?”

                “Yeah,” Junkrat said, smirking at Lúcio’s bewilderment. “Sounds like fun.”

                As they walked back to the TV room, Lúcio felt his heart pound in his ears.

                Somewhere, deep inside, he felt a pendulum shift.

 

  1. **sweets**



                Junkrat liked to make elaborate ice cream sundaes. Whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate sauce, marshmallows, sprinkles, and just to top it off he also took out a packet of sugar and just dumped it on there.

               “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?” Lúcio asked, protectively curling around his mint chocolate chip. It made sense for the junker to like a banana split sundae with all the toppings, since his life was seemingly built around chaos.

               It was their fourth movie night together, and they were both crowded up on the couch. Well, Junkrat certainly was taking up most of the room. Some action film roared in the background, but neither of them were really watching it. In fact, they were being unusually quiet today. Junkrat normally made obnoxious commentary throughout, while Lúcio made jokes about the lame dialogue or stupid hairstyles. But tonight, their legs had bumped against eachother, but neither of them moved. Lúcio could feel his skin tingling where it met Junkrat’s.

               Junkrat shrugged at the earlier question, and Lúcio watched with a weird fascination as the Australian curled his tongue around the spoon, swiped icecream between his teeth, licked his lips. Lúcio gulped.

              “I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” he said, but his eyes never left Lúcio’s.

              Lúcio was sure his face had never been redder.

**+1. miracles**

                                                         

                Junkrat was no stranger to no-win scenarios. The amount of times he’s been blown to bits, shot for good, or even just plain ol’ on the brink of death couldn’t be totaled, and not just because Junkrat can’t count past ten.

                But lying there, almost frozen within the snow, bleeding out of every orifice, well. That’s a no-win scenario right there. Junkrat could feel the cold seeping into his bones, but there was nothing he could do. His leg prosthetic was shot clean off, somewhere, somewhere out there in this endless wasteland.

                It was going to be one of the harder missions, everyone knew this. A trip to Siberia to track down one of Talon’s top agents, blah blah blah. Junkrat’s just for hire, he didn’t pay attention to the hours long debriefing. His mission was defense, keep any other threats at bay and kill anyone who looked like a threat. Basically, his favorite thing to do. Even with the snow at full force everyone stayed on target. There were a lot of baddies, but more of the good guys.

                Until someone dropped a loaded bomb into a cluster of Overwatch’s tanks and caused a massive explosion. The bomb was definitely not Junkrat’s, it didn’t have the finesse of a patented junk bomb. All style, no substance. Nobody was seriously hurt, but the tiny girl with the big honking mech had to self-eject, leaving her exposed to any stray sniper. They had all watched as the man behind the detonator ran off into the blizzard.

                “Roadhog,” Junkrat remembered the girl calling out, small but fierce against the white storm. “Back me up, I’m going after him.” Roadhog had looked back at Junkrat, who was setting up some traps.

                “Oh, go on mate!” Junkrat shouted above the raging winds. “I’ll be fine, go be one of them fuckin’ heroes!”

                And he watched as they disappeared into the distance, and for a second Junkrat had forgotten that he didn’t care about any of these people. He felt worried, and that wasn’t the best feeling.

                Thankfully, having real actual emotions was interrupted by a loud bang and a bullet through his right arm.

                Pain burst through his body in a flame, and Junkrat took a stumble into the snow. Seeing his assailant running towards him and needing to act fast, he quickly pulled out a concussion mine and threw it in front of him, bracing himself. The explosion flung him backwards, but even hurling through the air bullets kept flying at him.

                Another bullet scraped his thigh, another landed dug itself squarely in its shoulder.

                 _Wow,_ Junkrat had thought before he hit frozen, frozen ground.  _Bloody good shot that one is._

Now, he was just lying there, unable to move due to blood loss and rapidly declining body heat. Not the most heroic way to die. In fact, it’s not how he pictured dying at all. If he died, he wanted everyone else to die with him in a fiery blaze of bombs and bullets.

                But here, shivering and dying, all he could think about was his mother. Not that she was a great mother or anything. In the glimpses and brief memories that Junkrat could pull from the back of his consciousness, he remembered her bright laugh and exhausted, ringed eyes. A burst of freckles played across her cheeks, that Junkrat could recall. He always felt safe when she had scooped him up in her arms.

                He didn’t remember anything else resembling a family. Except Roadhog, of course. Oh, fuck, Roadhog was going to kill him for dying. Never leave the bodyguard, that’s the number one rule of this job. Now Junkrat was going to leave Roadhog all alone, no one to have tea with or to blast a group of five guys at once. He hoped the big lug would forgive him eventually. Maybe the other’s will take care of him.

                The others were  _alright,_ Junkrat allowed on his deathbed. That time traveler understood a good practical joke, and the Zarya woman was always helping him in training. The big ape was funny to poke at, and the angel had saved his arse almost a million times by now. Maybe even the omnic was mostly not the worst. Maybe.

                Dying in the snow, Junkrat even thought about the medic. Lúcio. Small and bold and an easy target. Made the absolute best face whenever Junkrat messed with him. Tolerated Junkrat beyond what was believable. He had nice arms, too, Junkrat thought very privately. Yeah, alright bloke. Too bad Junkrat was dying. He’d do a lot to see Lúcio’s stupid, fantastic face again.

                The frost was starting to overcome him. He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply and coughed once. Right, well, that’s all for now then. That’s it.

                Distantly, he could hear shouts, calls. At least someone could find his body.

                “Shit, shit shit shit. Shit! Junkrat, holy shit!”

                Was that you, God? At least the bastard had a mouth on him too.

                “Don’t worry, I got you. I got you.”

                Warmth surrounded him like a blanket lifting him up. Junkrat curled into it instinctively, even though he knew that sudden heat was a symptom of freezing to death. As he breathed in, the warmth only circled him tighter. Cracking his eyes open, Junkrat could only see a sea of green. What a lovely color.            

                Before exhaustion and darkness settled in, he could only hear one voice.               

                “I told you to wear a fucking jacket.”

 

 

                The bright florescent lights prodded him awake, and he felt calm.

                Then, distinct and feral panic.

                “What the hell?” Junkrat asked, sitting up with a start. Pain immediately bit at him, and as he looked down he noticed the bandages littering his body. His prosthetic leg was gone, leaving only a good leg he could barely even feel.

                “Oh thank god.” Lúcio, bloody fuckin’  _Lúcio,_ said from his chair next to his bed. “We weren’t sure if you’d wake up, it was bad, holy shit was it really goddamn bad. And we tried so hard, and I had to carry you, and there was so much blood.” He rubbed at his face. “I haven’t slept in like, a day. But I wanted to make sure you were okay. If you had-“

                “I’m not dead,” Junkrat said, dumbfounded. He had been so sure that that was it. The end, game over. But in the hospital room, IV’s hooked up to him in all different places, a lulling song playing in the background, and an exhausted but still handsome medic watching over him…well, this was being alive, then. “I’m not dead,” he repeated.

                Lúcio looked at him, getting up. “No, your vitals are a little low and we’ll need to monitor you, but-“

                “You saved me.” Junkrat remembered the warmth of being carried, feeling a heartbeat beating wildly against his ear.

                “I guess, I was just-“

                Junkrat interrupted Lúcio again with a sharp laugh, that hurt his ribcage and shook his body. Lúcio watched his cautiously as he kept laughing, completely shocked that he had made it.

                “You saved me!” he repeated again.

                Lúcio frowned. “Uh, are you-“

                Junkrat grabbed his face and kissed him squarely. It just like him, wild and spontaneous. But Lúcio’s soft lips, the way he fluttered his hands hesitantly on Junkrat’s hips, that wasn’t him at all. Which was exactly how he liked it.

                As Junkrat pulled away from the first of many kisses, he looked at Lúcio’s face. Dopey, surprised, confused, amazed.

                There it was, that face of his.

                Bloody fuckin’ miracle.

 

 

               

 


End file.
